Mom's Little Parasite
by MGD
Summary: It's no wonder House hates clinic duty. The patients in a word are morons. Enter a patient that reminds House of a certain she-devil. Needless to say, his interest is piqued especially when the patient falls mysteriously ill. Ch 4 UP
1. Chapter 1

Mom's Little Parasite

A/N: Okay. Upon reflection, I realize that this first chapter comes off a bit harsh, and the patient is a bit unpleasant. House seems a bit out of character, too. The patient is just freaking out a bit from what's happening. Give chapter 2 a shot before you condemn it. I think the characters are closer to the show's intrepretion after the first chapter. Please let me know what you think.

House walked into Exam Room Three. A young woman fidgeting with the long arms of her sweatshirt went still as he met her widened eyes. "You are not Mr. Fitzburger," he eyed her up and down.

"I would be missing a rather crucial part right now if I was him," she gazed over his form with an annoyed look.

"Excuse me," he backed out the room shuffling over to the nurse's station.

"What idiot put a patient in the Exam Room where I already have a patient?" House mouthed off to a new nurse, who face was growing bright red fearing a standoff with the infamous Dr. House.

"I did, House," a calm, authoritative voice stated behind him. Dr. Cuddy stood beside him at the desk to finish filling out a patient's chart before grabbing the next one. On instinct, he leaned back and crooked his head to the right to admire her ass as she reached for another chart. Grunting in disgust, he realized that her lab coat didn't showcase her assets nearly as well as that tight blue skirt lying just beneath it.

He met her face to face launching into a rant, "I'm actually here in the sixth circle of hell where Jersey crotches come to die, and you have to throw another patient at me before I even finish tests on the first one. Did you come out here just to watch the cripple dance, Devil-woman?"

"House, I checked the log-in book, called the lab, and had the janitor check the men's room. There is no Mr. Fitzburger. I bet if I look in that chart you're carrying, it's empty," Cuddy glared up at him. A cruel victorious smile spread across her face.

"For once, I'm actually do my job. You're out here accusing me of . . ." he was cut off when Cuddy shoved another chart into his hands on top of the mysterious Mr. Fitzburger's file.

"You would sell Wilson and your team down the river if it got you out of Clinic hours. Next time don't name your patient after your lunch," she moved closer to him and whispered in a wicked tone, "Now, go dance." He watched her smile at the patient she called and warmly introduced herself as a lovelorn teenage boy followed her best asset to Exam Room 1. House grinned to himself, poor bastard. The kid had no idea that he was following a succubus into her liar. Huffing, House aboutfaced and headed back to face his own personal hell, a real patient.

"Ahh! The prodigal man returns," the woman frowned upon his return.

House scowled at her smarmy attitude. _Great, first the devil. Now a bitch._ Cuddy seemed to specially pick this one just to torture him. Hell, two can play this game.

"It's refreshing to know that women can still be bloodsucking harpies every month even when they're carrying their pimp's lovechild," he rolled on the physician stool holding her file.

"I couldn't help myself after he offered to let me keep an extra twenty a week. All I had to do was bend over the back of his Buick once a week," she snapped back as he came to a stop in front of her. He began to reassess the woman before him after hearing her response. He decided to see how far this little game could carry on.

He looked up at her with a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Don't underestimate yourself. You're worth at least an extra $30 a week," he finished reviewing her file.

"Judging by that idiotic grin on your face, I'm going to guess that parasite is alive and well," she sighed suddenly looking exhausted.

"Now, that's no way to talk about your future pimp or whore. I'm sure you could work another month or two before you have to lower your rates. Nobody likes to screw a fat hooker," he responded slipping on some gloves and pulling the ultrasound to the bedside, "Lift up your shirt." After smearing her belly with jelly, he zeroed in on the fetus and turned the screen to showcase it. He observed her as her eyes gazed on the screen and assessed her reaction.

"11 weeks along," she mumbled to herself before launching into a series of questions, "What is the heart rate? Is the size within range? Any physiological abnormalities?"

"Interesting," House handed her a cloth is wipe off the jelly as he pulled off his gloves in order to lock the image on the screen.

"What?" she asked with disdain filling her voice.

"Most women usually sit in there in awe staring at their parasite with affection. Others sit there afraid to ask where they can terminate their mistakes. You look for physical anomalies so you can get rid of it without disturbing your conscience," House scrutinized her questions.

She narrowed her eyes at him raising her voice, "You ass! Do you always make random assumptions about people? My brother was stationed in Afghanistan when his wife was pregnant. I went with her to all the prenatal appointments and sat with her as she gave birth. I know what the doctors tell expectant mothers. You still haven't told me anything."

"How did you know the fetus was eleven weeks?" he asked as his right eyebrow rose in curiosity.

"I asked questions when I sat through ultrasounds. Now answer my questions," she demanded.

"Let me guess. You grew up in the Midwest, near Chicago. Your Northwestern sweatshirt is new, so you only recently moved here. You're too old to be an undergraduate, so you're probably here to get a glorified piece of toilet paper in Lesbian studies. You left your college sweetheart back home. At least, you called him your college sweetheart. Because you are a good little Christian girl, you continued to screw the first guy that got you off instead of drinking and fucking as many people as you could. But your future was here while Joe Blow was staying behind to pursue the great world of entry level sales. Now, you're knocked up with the moron's child," House confidently revealed her recent history.

"Wow. Are you always so perceptive with your patients?" she asked as sadness covered her face.

"Personal gift. Don't forget to mention that the she-devil made me do it," he responded filling out two scripts. One had the number for another type of clinic. The other was a prescription for prenatal vitamins. He prepared to hand them to her and finish off the visit with a crowning insult that would have the woman in Cuddy's office in under a minute. House was unnerved slightly when he saw a devilish smile gracing her lips just before she started into a tirade. _It was an oddly familiar sight._

"You, idiot! Congratulations. You deduced that I grew up in Chicago and wear a cross. My parents gave me this sweatshirt because they happen to be Wildcat fans. I went to the University of Chicago, where I drank more than enough to wake up in plenty of strangers' beds without remembering how I got there. The only reason my ass is in this cesspool of a state is to attend a conference. I'm pissed off that the dam birth control implanted in my arm is a worthless piece of shit. Plus the father isn't my pimp or some pathetic pasty salesman; he's my bitch. If you want to be political correct, he's my assistant. Now answer my questions," she raged.

"Way too much information," he complained, "Heart rate and size is normal. If you're worried about genetics, take these and ask your doctor for an amino. If you don't care, call this number and make an appointment. Remember to file all complaints with Dr. Cuddy." Raising from the stool, he rushed to the door satisfied that he had completed his commitment in the clinic that day. A taunting voice stopped him from rushing out.

"Why would I file any complaints?" the patient inquired sweetly. He turned back to the she-devil. Leave it to Cuddy to find a venomous, manipulative devil dog of the same breed as herself. If she went and complained to Cuddy, Cuddy would demand that he apologize and get out of her sight. More importantly, it would free him of his three remaining clinic hours. Firing up to tower over her and rain down a fury of insults, he was again cut off by the sickeningly sweet voice of his patient, "Let me guess. You want me to go and yell at your poor boss, who has to put up with your daily childish antics. If I go in her office screaming until my face turns green and starts spinning, she'll come out to you and demand you say that you're sorry. Then, she will let you go and hide in your office away from all the annoying patients. Try your crap with an idiot. I enjoy watching you suffer."

"What was your last name, again? Any relation to a Lisa Cuddy?" House opened the chart to read the patient's name.

"Just met Dr. Cuddy when she escorted me in. My name is Alicia Morrison. Remember it. Maybe you can get Dr. Cuddy to ban me from the clinic," she shoved past him in the doorway knocking him in the knee with the bottom of her cane. House suppressed the urge to shout 'Bitch' as she stalked away. His head cocked to the right as he admired her derrière. _Definitely the same breed of she-devil as Cuddy_. He frowned at the sight of the cane wondering how he missed that.

Walking up to the desk, he enjoyed the view of his favorite mountain range barely hidden away by black lace and blue silk. He searched the room looking to see if her prey had escaped or was eaten alive. Finally, he saw a red-faced sixteen year old walk precariously out of the exam room with his jacket strategically placed over the front of his pants. Eavesdropping on Cuddy talking to the nurse, House heard her order tests for various forms of STD's as she handed over a swap to be tested. He moved to side smiling a wide Cheshire cat grin, "You know that you're hell on wheels."

"Am I going to find another one of your patients in my office?" Cuddy sighed.

"Nope. My patients love me. Worship at my feet," House prepared to shout an off-handed comment about Cuddy, certain infectious diseases, and young boys. A loud clang and several gasps drew the attention of the room towards the door, where Alicia Morrison laid seizing.

_______


	2. Chapter 2

Who?

House watched as Cameron, Cuddy, and a couple of nurses rolled an unconscious Alicia Morrison towards the ER. Cuddy had reacted quickly and stopped the seizure while he observed the crowd staring at the clinic mini-drama unfold. He noticed an eight year old boy clutching his mom's hand as silent tears rolled down his face. Scooping up the forgotten cane, he approached the frightened child, whose eyes never left the spot where the woman fell. Ignoring the mother, House sat down and leveled his head with the boy. Gently, he asked, "Do you see the lady fall?" The child gave an almost imperceptible nod.

"Sir, give him a few minutes to . . ." the mother pulled the child behind her leg to stop him from questioning him.

"Can you tell me what you saw before she fell?" he continued undeterred by the mother. The child looked confused looking at House and back to his mother trying to figure out which to listen to.

"You're scaring him. Go away!" the mother snapped slapping House's hand when it reached out to touch the boy's shoulder.

"Your son knows what happened to the woman that was lying on the floor shaking uncontrollably. Did you teach your son to be a decent human being and help save a woman's life or allow him to stand around and enjoy the show just like dear old mom?" House shouted at the woman, whose mouth dropped open in shock. House lowered himself down to the boy's level and repeated his question.

In a hushed voice, the boy responded, "She put her hand here." He motioned towards his heart, "Then, she fell down." All other words died in his throat.

"That will help her," House willed a small smile for the boy.

"Get away!" the mother pulled her son away from the big, bad man heading out the door.

Finding the three women that left him standing alone in the clinic, House observed as Cuddy consulted Cameron on her course of treatment. She had on that overly concerned face; she must read the chart discovering the woman was pregnant. Cuddy nodded in agreement to the tests and treatments that Cameron stated and handed over the chart. She turned to leave when her eyes landed bull's-eye on House. Her eyes flickered with curiosity and concerned. The look asked what do you know. Cameron duplicated the look on Cuddy's face once she realized where the dean was looking. Succumbing to their looks, House approached his smugness evident.

"Did she tell you something when you saw her in the clinic that you forgot to mention in her chart?" Cuddy was shooting daggers at him. In a look, she berated him silently saying that if he actually filled out charts properly, then other doctors would know what was going on with the patient.

"No," he smirked but dropped the grin as he began to scrutinize the patient. Stepping forward, he carefully looped the lost cane on the end of the hospital bed.

"You know something. Otherwise, you never would have followed the patient," Cameron gave her own smug smile.

Turning to his one of his former protégés, he ordered Cameron, "Drop the head CT. Get a chest X-ray."

"She hit her head, House. We need to make sure that there is no damage to the skull or brain," Cuddy argued.

"The problem isn't in her head. It's her heart," House gaited away heading towards the elevator, "Bring Morrison's file to me after you run the tests."

Cuddy and Cameron watched him retreating with widened eyes. Cameron asked with doubt in her tone, "Did he actually remember the name of his patient?"

"Yeah. He did," Cuddy answered before departing back to the clinic.

The click of his office door drew House from his deep thoughts. He looked up to see Wilson hanging his head in the doorway. "Want to get lunch?" asked Wilson joyfully. His expression faded instantly the second that he noticed House fumbling with his secret stash. He was rolling an orange bottle half full of Vicodin in his right hand while his left hand shuffled the pages of the lupus text that was cut to fit the bottle. Suddenly concerned, Wilson blurted out, "Are you okay?"

"Why would a healthy, competent woman call her child a parasite?" House asked rhetorically.

"The father was an ass. She hates kids, had a bad childhood, was raped, or didn't expect to be pregnant," Wilson rattled off several possibilities examining his friend's expression.

"Likes the father. Can at least tolerate kids. Likes her family. No obvious signs. She knew that she was pregnant. She only came here to confirm her suspensions. She was also concerned about the physical well-being of the child," House went through Wilson's laundry list slipping the pill bottle safety back into it's home and slamming the book shut. He focused his gaze onto Wilson when a stampede of doctors in the next room drew the attention of both men. Standing up, he grabbed his cane and boasted to Wilson, who followed close behind him, "Now, let's go see why they pay me the big bucks."

Foreman secured an X-ray to the illuminated board flicking the switch. Stepping back to stand shoulder to shoulder with Cameron, he announced to the team around the table, "House was right. Fluid around the pericardium. We already drained the fluid."

House took his customary position by the white board hanging his cane on the edge. Using a black marker, he wrote the list of symptoms: pregnancy, joint pain, seizure, and pericarditis.

"Pregnancy is a symptom?" Kutner wondered twisting his head to the left.

"More like the plague," House responded annoyed.

"It impacts her diagnosis and treatment," Foreman stated equally annoyed.

"She has a fever and elevated white blood cell count," Thirteen noted from the chart, "We should run cultures and start her on board-spectrum antibiotics."

"What about her joint pain," Cameron drew attention to the comments that House had written out on the board, "It could be autoimmune."

"The fever is 103.6. With the elevated WBC, the symptoms point towards infection with a fever that high," Thirteen countered.

"Infection could explain the fever, WBC, and possibly the pericarditis, but autoimmune explain all her symptoms," Cameron stated with a superior smile.

"Fever and the white count are explained by the infection, which hit the heart causing the pericarditis. The joint pain can probably be explained by the laceration on her knee," Thirteen argued standing up and glaring directly at Cameron.

"Do you really think House would write joint pain as a symptom if it was just a laceration on the knee?" Cameron returned the glare.

Both women turned their fierce looks expectantly towards House wanting for him to confirm their diagnosis. House smiled wickedly at their looks and turned to Wilson. "Think they have enough Jell-O downstairs to settle this argument properly?" he asked. The sides of Wilson's mouth turned up as his thoughts turned to Jell-O wrestling pits and bikini-ed doctors. Thirteen released a frustrated sigh while Cameron shook her head as her own grin grew wide. Thirteen, Taub, and Kutner fixed their gaze on Foreman when they realized House was lost on Fantasy Island.

Turning to Cameron, Foreman mediated, "Without a history, we can't assume autoimmune. The symptoms are more likely an infection."

"We can't assume infection either," Cameron crossed her arms over her chest and set her determined face on.

"We'll start her on antibiotics. Run an LP. We'll include an ANA and anti-phospholipids while we try to hunt down her history," Foreman nodded towards Thirteen, Taub, and Kutner. Thirteen and Kutner exited the office heading off to administer meds and run labs. Taub approached the desk preparing to track down the doctors listed in the medical history given by the patient.

"This is my patient," Cameron glared at Foreman.

"Then, you should have been the one listening and issuing proper orders," Foreman shot back, "instead of pouting when someone argues a better diagnosis than you."

Cameron stood close to Foreman slightly invading his personal space. Cameron, in less than subtle terms, laid down her conditions, "Cuddy specified that this is my patient. All treatments and tests are to be reported to me before any action is taken." She stepped back from Foreman and faced House, who had moved to tower off her short frame in order to clearly demonstrate his dominance. She looked up at him remaining fully confident, "Understood?" House remained silent in his challenge posture.

Foreman let out a sigh of defeat, "I'll page you when the test results come back." Cameron turned back to him and nodded her head part in confirmation and part in thanks before heading back to her ER. Foreman picked up his drug trial files and headed out to inform Thirteen and Kutner to keep him in the loop on any test results.

Wilson faced House after the Juniors had left, "When did you start consulting on patients for Cameron?"

"I don't. Cameron was supposed to hand the patient over to me after some X-rays, but it seems our darling She-Beast in heels assigned the patient to the eager little pleaser," House answered.

"Wait," Wilson gave him a speculative look of doubt, "you offered to take a patient. Cuddy forced you into the clinic, again?"

"Yes, but that's not why I took the patient," House grabbed his cane from the board and headed for the door, "Let's go. I'm going to need proper sustenance before I find Cuddy."

The office door opened with a resounding bang that echoed in the office as her tall opponent lumbered in ready for battle. Shortly after the bang, a sharp shrill filled the office as Rachael expressed her discontent about her afternoon nap being disrupted. House, who had lost his expression of superiority, glared at the unexpected wailing object resting in an expensive baby carriage next to Cuddy's desk. Cuddy had quickly swooped down and gathered the squirming child attempting to ease her cries. Her expression was pure love and compassionate as she gazed on the pink bundle. The look amazingly changed to pure death when she looked upon House. She asked through gritted teeth, "What the hell do you want, House?"

Ignoring her question, House approached the bobbing form of Cuddy frowning, "Why is that here?"

"She," Cuddy emphasized the word stressing her distaste at the term he used for her child, "is here for a checkup with Dr. Gilderfield. The nanny dropped her off early, so I thought I would finish this report before heading to the appointment. At least, I thought I would until an idiot interrupted."

"Why? There's nothing wrong with the spawn that a cork couldn't fix," House looked suspiciously upon the baby.

Cuddy narrowed her eyes as he spoke and tried, again in vain, to emphasize her name, "Rachael was in unsanitary conditions for an entire month. Dr. Gilderfield wants to see her once a week for the first month just to be safe."

"Gilderfield is an idiot. She's fine," House decided not to push his luck. He walked over to the coat rack in the office grabbing the stethoscope from Cuddy's lab coat. Approaching the nervous mother and baby, House secured the instrument around his neck and pulled a penlight from his pocket. Cuddy back away as he approached unpleased with his actions.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I know it's been awhile since you played doctor, so I'll go slowly. This is what we call examining a patient. We use this little light to check the eyes and this strange little doohickey allows us to hear the patient's heartbeat," he responded condescendingly.

"House!" Cuddy threatened reflexively drawing Rachael protectively into her chest, "You don't exam patients."

"Wrong. I don't exam patients when I have three little ducklings to do it for me. When you throw me in that damn torture chamber, I actually do look at the patients," House tried again to look at the baby. Cuddy glared at him suspiciously. "Okay, I look at them when I have to," he amended his statement, "Cuddy, come on. Who do you want checking your child, world renowned diagnostician or Dr. Lollipop?"

Cuddy signed. She surrendered and allowed House to examine her daughter. Watching him carefully, she noticed his expression changed to the one that she considered his 'observation' look. After she placed the baby back in the carriage and removed the swaddled blankets, House checked her response to stimuli and listened to her heart and lungs. Once Cuddy was sure of his intent, she focused on entertaining the infant. House drew her attention after he listened to the heart. He summarized, "She's fine. Tell Dr. Gilderfield to double check her ears, nose, and throat with the scope. But I'm telling you, the spawn is perfectly healthy."

Satisfied with his exam, Cuddy rewrapped her daughter in the pink blanket and settled the bundle back into the crook of her left elbow. "Why are you here, House?" she refocused the conversation.

"Tell Cameron to give up my case," he demanded settling into the chair in front of her desk.

"No," she replied before murmuring loving comments softly to Rachael with a beaming smile.

"Cameron runs the ER. The patient was admitted to the hospital. The case should be moved to another attending. I already laid claim. Give me my case," he began to spin his cane in his right hand.

"No," Cuddy returned his look.

"Why?" he asked as the frustration and anger in his voice grew more evident.

"Cameron is a great doctor. She is actually capable of consulting other doctors if necessary. For now, this is what is best for the patient," Cuddy answered.

"No. Using a patient to see if Cameron has the balls to stand up to me and say no is not the best course," he relished in the surprised look on Cuddy's face, which confirmed his suspensions. He continued, "But that doesn't answer my question. Why? Why do you need to test Cameron? What's going on?"

"Nothing has changed, House," Cuddy recovered from her shock, "I'm just watching out for the patient. You have an unusual fascination in an ordinary case. If things change, I'll give you the case." Cuddy was grabbing items and moved quickly to the exit. She was heading towards her next appointment. "Is there anything else? I don't need you following me and scaring more children," she paused to see if he had a response. Over her shoulder, she quietly thanked me for looking at Rachael before escaping his presence.

"Everything changes," House mumbled watching Cuddy rush away to the elevator.

House emerged from the elevator contemplating the discussion that he had just had with Cuddy. The idea of her departure brought up feelings that he did not want to deal with, but the notion of toying with Cameron filled him childlike delight. He couldn't decide whether he should invade Wilson's office to discuss the 'tests' that he should try on Cameron or brood about Cuddy in his office. The large group assembled in his conference room distracted his attention. Taub turned to House and informed him of the current debate, "According to the all the doctors that Ms. Morrison listed, she doesn't exist. None of the doctors had her on file."

"Everybody lies," Foreman sighed standing beside a frowning Cameron.


	3. Chapter 3

Nerd Boy's Goddess

A/N: Little Tribute to Kutner's Nerdiness :) Hope you like-better yet let me know if you do.

"We can't find anything on the patient," stated Cameron, "We are going to have to wake her up."

"Yeah and trick her into telling the truth," Foreman complained with a raised brow silently wishing for one easy patient.

Their discussion was cut short or the door of conference room banged opened. Kutner stumbled in a barely able to contain his excitement. His eyes were filled up with that familiar glee when he presented a strange method to treat a patient. Thirteen followed behind him curious about his excitement. Everyone turned to him waiting expectly for him to excitedly proclaim some medical rarity he observed in the patient.

"What?" he inquired lamely when he felt the stares surrounding him.

"You're smiling like an idiot. What did you see?" House cut to the chase. Kutner blushed when he realized that his personal excitment permeated his outer facade.

"It's nothing," he replied.

"No. You know something. It's personal and embarrassing. Remember the last time that you forgot to mention something important our patient's blood almost turned into sludge permanently," he challenged.

"It's nothing. I just know the patient," Kutner said drawing four shocked expressions and one frown from the others in the room.

"How do you know the patient?" Taub asked first.

"I met her last week at a convention in New York," he explained.

"She thinks that she actually is this Morrison person," Foreman assessed, "She's living in some kind of delusional state. This could be neurological."

"The fever could have contributed to a delusional state," Thirteen added.

"Fever didn't start until later. She didn't have one when she presented in the clinic and made no mention of them," House deflected.

"Brain involvement points back to autoimmune," Cameron broke in the conversation.

"Wait. Why are you all assuming the patient is delusional?" Kutner asked.

"The patient has no medical history according to the doctors in Chicago. If she actually thinks that she is Alicia Morrison, she's not exactly in her right mind," Taub informed him.

"She has to be Alicia Morrison," Kutner defended the patient.

"Patients lie," Taub dismissed his statement.

"No, you don't understand. That woman has to be who she says she is," Kutner stressed, "I saw her along with a few thousand people. I can prove it."

________________________________________________________________________

The entire team gathered around the table as Kutner beamed actually being able to prove a point. On the computer screen, Alicia Morrison discussed her upcoming published work.

"That's your patient," Wilson murmuring to House incredulously.

Kutner looked over at Wilson smiling, "Wait till you see the artist." An Icelandic looking beauty sitting next to the patient began to answer questions in the interview.

"These women work in the comic book industry?" Taub questioned admiring the grainy images.

"Yup," Kutner answered feeling like Cortez in the city of gold.

"When is the next convention?" Thirteen asked drawing stares from all the men surrounding her.

"Can we please focus on the patient?" Cameron tried to redirect the attention of the room, "She wasn't lying about her name, and the doctors on her forms were legitimate. So, what is the patient trying to hide?"

"Something's off," Foreman responded, "She's lying about something."

"Maybe she's not lying," Thirteen exclaimed, "Maybe everything she told us is the truth. Maybe it's just not the whole truth."

"Like a secret identity!" Kutner showed too much zeal at his own idea.

"Yes, because on weekends she dresses in red high-heeled boots giving hugs to third world child and chopping off the heads of mad evil scientists," Taub voiced sarcastically, "She could be like 13 trying to keep a disease hidden."

"Or, she could be Taub trying to keep a marriage together," Thirteen shot back.

"Either way, she's trying to separate some parts of her life whether professional or personal. We need to figure out which and get her histories," Foreman cut off the bickering.

"Kutner and Taub contact the publisher and try to find some personal contact for emergencies. Dr. Hadley, let me know when the test results are done. I'll look in on the patient," Cameron dispensed jobs.

The group looked at House looking for directions. "Well, you heard step-mommy. Go do your chores like good little children," House replied in his whiny child voice.


	4. Chapter 4

Wilson followed House back into his private office as the younglings set off in a rush. "How do you do it? A self-proclaimed narcissistic, self-destructive ass! How do you end up with women that look like Cameron, 13, CIA lady, and Amber fighting tooth and nail to work for you? As if that isn't enough, you have patient's that look like that randomly seizing in the clinic as you happen to walk past her," Wilson rambled to no one in particular amazed by House's luck. The idiot had nine lives and beautiful women literally falling at his feet.

"Don't forget the hot South Pole doctor, the jail bait stalker, or the model," House smirked.

"The model turned out to be a guy, the jail bait had a fungus, and Cate has been back for 2 months now. Why haven't you stopped by to say hello?" Wilson smiled satisfied that he deflated his friend's ego, if only slightly.

"Why are you here?" House grimaced.

"You paged me," Wilson explained annoyed.

"Oh yeah! Let's go," he grabbed his coat and shuffled towards the door.

"Where?" Wilson said exasperatedly.

"The penthouse," House held up a hotel key with a lop-sided grin.

"Why are we breaking into your patient's hotel room, again?" Wilson asked.

"Don't know the patient's real name. I need it if I'm going to get a proper medical history," House explained his reasonable logic.

"That almost sounds plausible if we get caught or worse arrested," Wilson sounded sarcastically optimistic. House slipped the hotel key into the door slot and smiled when the green light flashed. Wilson followed reluctantly casting glances both ways to make sure not one saw them enter the hotel suite. He carefully locked the door behind him and whistled when he took in the opulence. House jumped onto the California King reaching for the remote. He brought up the adult selection menu.

""The sacrifices we make for patients," he sighed settling back onto the lush high thread count pillow shams, "Hand me the room service menu."

"House! Let's get what we need and get out of here," Wilson insisted checking the door again. House rolled off the bed and reached into the mini-fridge. He pulled out a small bottle of whiskey throwing it to Wilson and opened his own bottle of scotch. He settled back onto the bed to watch a personal favorite feature with gourmet chips and macadamia nuts.

"I haven't seen this one," Wilson settled down onto the bed kicking his feet onto the bed.

House groaned as a familiar teen anthem interrupted the passionate moans of the blonde acrobat on the screen. House knocked an enraptured Wilson in the arm motioning for him to look around the room. He whipped his phone open and yelled, "Hold on."

He looked towards Wilson, who was gently shifting through items on the desk. They both could hear Foreman trying to get his attention.

"What?" House yelled into phone annoyed at Wilson's girly neatness and Foreman's demanding voice.

"Where are you? We got the results from the LP," he asked.

"Dr. Hadley was right. She has an infection," Cameron admitted over the speaker phone, "House, where are you? It sounds like . . . is that a woman moaning?"

"I just walked in on Cuddy during a meeting. Her mouth is a little occupied right now" House responded.

"House, pay the stripper or hooker and get back here. We got the number for Morrison's assistant," Foreman cut the connection.

"House, look at this," Wilson tossed House a pill bottle, "There is also an instruction sheet for an Alexandra Morris from New York Mercy. She was treated for a knee laceration. Why the hell would someone get anti-malarials for a cut?"

"They wouldn't. They would get them for malaria," House looked over the medical records.

"So, the patient has an infection, "Wilson replies.

"Yes, but not malaria," House answered.  
"What does that mean?" Wilson wondered.

"It means that 13 was right. So was Cameron," he glanced at Wilson.

"How often do you go to those conventions?" 13 smirked from the computer as Kutner looked up from examining a blood sample from the patient.

"Why?" Kutner asked defensively.

"Because I might join you if that artist plans on being at the next one," 13 answered.

"Really," Kutner responded excitedly, "It depends on the content of the convention. Some are just one theme like . . ."

"Damn!" 13 cut him off.

"I just thought you would want to know what goes on if you were serious," Kutner said defensive, again.

"It's not that," 13 reread the computer screen, "Cameron was right." She ripped the test results from the printer and headed to the office.

"House!" Wilson shouted, "House! Get your head out of that paper and help me."

"She dug up corpses in Norway, Sweden, and Russia from around 1400. They tried to isolate tissue from Black Plague victims. It looks like they were able to find viable blood samples. She's actually trying to isolate the genetic makeup of the plague virus," he mumbled flipping through the lecture on the desk.

"My god," Wilson focused on House, "You like her."

"Just because the woman isn't an idiot, doesn't mean I like her," he sneered.

"This woman writes mysteries for a living. She is one of the foremost experts on the plague and infectious diseases. There is a guitar in the corner, and the woman is currently a medical puzzle. It's all your obsessions wrapped up in a tall blonde with a rack that rivals Cuddy," Wilson argued.

"It's a bass guitar. Besides she's too tall, too blonde, and those breasts will never hold up like the girls," he complained.

"Oh right. A 5'9'' blonde with legs that go on forever is an eye sore," Wilson rolled his eyes.

"Sound familiar," House raised eyebrow. Both men stopped their bickering when the door swung open.

"Must be the assistant," House turned to Wilson.

A/N: Hey! The mystery continues. I've only done a rough edit. So please ignore my mistakes. (I swear I'll fix them soon.) I just wanted to clarify the House/Wilson argument at the end here. Wilson is accusing House of having a crush on a girl because of her mind while House is accusing him of liking her only for her physcial appearance (Tall leggy blonde-meant to a physical stereotype for Wilson, aka same physical attributes as Amber). Hope you liked it:) Please let me know.


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